The private garden adjacent to the Grand Hall was a study in controlled elegance. Moonlight filtered through carefully manicured trees, casting silver shadows on stone pathways that wound between night-blooming flowers. The distant hum of chaos from the hall was muffled but ever-present, a reminder of the scandal still unfolding inside.
Gareth stood alone near a marble fountain, his hands gripping the stone edge so hard his knuckles were white. His breathing was ragged, his composure shattered. The revelation about "specimens" had cracked something fundamental in him.
Maggie entered from a side path, her phone in hand, her expression grim. She had been coordinating with the neutral security team.
"Gareth. We need to talk."
He didn't turn around. "Not now, Maggie."
"Yes. Now."
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "Your wife is being detained. Oliver Khan is singing like a canary to anyone who'll listen. And I have a terrified young woman in my cottage who just heard everything through my earpiece and is about to do something incredibly stupid."
Gareth finally turned. His eyes were red-rimmed, hollow. "What are you talking about?"
Before Maggie could answer, rapid footsteps echoed on the stone path. Chloe burst into the garden, her face streaked with tears, her body trembling violently. She had abandoned all caution, all pretense of hiding.
"Gareth! Gareth, I'm sorry—I'm so sorry—I couldn't—I had to—"
She collapsed to her knees on the path. Gareth stared at her, confusion warring with concern.
"Chloe? What are you doing here? You should be—"
"I heard him! Oliver!" She looked up at him, her eyes wild with guilt and terror. "I heard everything through Maggie's earpiece! The specimens, the deal, the—the—"
She looked up at him, her eyes wild with guilt and terror. "It was all fake. Gareth, I'm sorry, it was all fake."
Gareth froze. "What was fake?"
Chloe's voice was hysterical, the words tumbling out in a torrent. "The baby! There was never a baby! Simone—she told me—she said if I pretended—if I said you were the father—she'd protect me from Elroy, she'd give me money, she'd—"
Maggie stepped forward, her voice sharp and controlled. "Chloe. Slow down. Breathe. Tell us everything. From the beginning."
Chloe gulped air, her hands clutching at her chest. "Simone came to me three months ago. She knew about Elroy—knew he was hunting me—knew I was hiding. She said she could make it all go away. All I had to do was... was say I was pregnant. Say it was Gareth's. Cause a scandal. Distract everyone."
Gareth's voice broke. "Why? Why would she—"
"She said she needed time. Time to finish her 'project.' She said you were—you were in the way. That your reputation, your influence, it was... it was blocking her."
Chloe wiped her face with shaking hands. "And then she started asking about the pack's medical records. About genetic histories. About... about weaknesses in the bloodlines. And she had these vials, Gareth. These horrible, horrible vials. She said they were for 'research.' But I saw what they did to a rat she tested them on. It just... it stopped being alive but kept moving."
Maggie's face went pale. "Wolfsbane derivatives."
Chloe nodded frantically. "And Oliver—Oliver kept calling her, threatening her. He said he'd 'cut off her supply' if she didn't pay him more. He kept talking about 'the specimens' and 'delivery schedules' and—and—"
Gareth's voice was a whisper of horror. "What has she done?"
"I don't know! I don't know, but she's been poisoning people, Gareth. I think—I think she's been testing on pack members. Low-ranking ones. Ones nobody would notice."
The silence that followed was deafening. Gareth's legs gave out. He sank onto the edge of the fountain, his head in his hands.
"I brought her into the pack. I married her. I gave her access to everything. I... I let her..."
Maggie crouched in front of him, her voice firm but not unkind. "Gareth. Look at me."
He didn't move.
"You were a victim of her manipulation too. She targeted you. She used your insecurities, your desire for a perfect mate, your—"
"My ego." He looked up, his eyes blazing with self-loathing. "My arrogance. My desperate need to prove I wasn't broken after you left. She saw that. She saw a weak, pathetic wolf who would believe any lie as long as it made him feel whole."
Chloe flinched at the raw pain in his voice.
Gareth stood abruptly. "Where is she? Where is Simone now?"
Maggie rose, her expression cautious. "Security has her in a holding room near the main hall. They're waiting for pack enforcers to—"
But Gareth was already moving, his long strides eating up the garden path.
Maggie called after him. "Gareth, wait! You can't just—"
Chloe scrambled to her feet. "Please don't let him hurt her! Please! I know what she did but—but I don't want anyone else to—"
Maggie grabbed Chloe's arm. "Stay here. Stay with me. This is going to get worse before it gets better."
---
A secluded corner of the Summit grounds, behind the security building. A narrow alley between two maintenance sheds, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb.
Gareth had cornered Simone as she was being escorted by two pack enforcers. He had dismissed them with a wave of his hand, his Alpha authority overriding their protests. Simone stood against the wall, her emerald gown now smudged, her hair disheveled. But her eyes were cold, defiant.
Gareth's voice was low and shaking. "Tell me it's not true."
Simone's lips curved into a small, cruel smile. "Which part, darling? The fake pregnancy? The poison? The specimens? You'll have to be more specific."
Gareth stepped closer, his voice a dangerous whisper. "You made me believe I was going to be a father. You used me. You poisoned my pack members. You—"
"I did what was necessary."
"Necessary? NECESSARY?"
Simone's voice rose to match his, though she kept it to a whisper. "You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to be saddled with a washed-up Alpha who couldn't even keep his first mate? Who's spent years drowning in self-pity and whiskey while his pack slowly lost respect for him?"
Gareth recoiled as if struck. "You..."
"You wanted a perfect wife? A perfect life? A perfect redemption arc?" Simone leaned closer, her eyes glittering with malice. "You were never enough to hold any of it. You were a stepping stone, Gareth. A useful, pathetic, broken stepping stone."
She leaned closer still, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oliver and I... we're building something new. Something that doesn't need broken wolves like you. Something that will reshape everything. And you? You'll be forgotten. Just another footnote in the history of a dying species."
Gareth's hand shook. For a moment, it looked like he might strike her. But he didn't. He stepped back, his face a mask of devastation.
"You're a monster."
Simone smiled. "I'm a visionary. There's a difference."
----------------
The same alley, moments later. Eleanor had slipped away from the main hall, seeking air and a moment to process the chaos. She stood in the shadows near the corner of the maintenance shed, her enhanced hearing having caught every word.
She stood frozen, her heart pounding. She had recorded everything on her phone—a habit from years of detective work. But it was the last phrase that echoed in her mind:
"...doesn't need broken wolves."
It was the same language from the profile she and James had been building. The killer's manifesto—the belief that traditional packs were weak, that werewolves needed to be "evolved" or "controlled." Simone wasn't just a scorned wife. She was part of something larger.
Eleanor watched as Simone was led away by the enforcers. But before Simone disappeared around the corner, Eleanor saw something—a small movement, a sleight of hand. Simone's fingers dipped into her purse and emerged with a tiny glass vial, which she dropped into a nearby planter filled with decorative stones.
The enforcers didn't notice. Gareth didn't notice. But Eleanor did.
She waited until they were gone, then approached the planter. Her heart was racing. She pulled on a pair of latex gloves from her jacket pocket—old habits—and carefully retrieved the vial.
It was small, no bigger than her thumb. Inside, a dark amber liquid gleamed.
"What are you, little one?" she whispered to herself.
Her phone buzzed. A text from James:
Where are you? We have a situation. Oliver Khan is in custody. He's talking. Meet me at the security office. Now.
Eleanor pocketed the vial carefully, her mind racing. She typed back:
On my way. I have something too.
She took one last look at the planter, then hurried toward the main building.